Bliss

Teuchter’s post on Bliss has encouraged me to say “Fie!” to all politicos and count my own blessings. I agree with most of what she has posted, but I am adding a few of my own:

The smell of clean, fresh cotton laundry. One of my colleagues smells of freshly washed clothes. I’m not even sure who it is, but it always makes me feel brighter myself. It’s even better when it’s freshly washed bedlinen of course.

A cat, purring. They are such contented little bastards that it’s hard not to be soothed.

The perfect line on a bend. My days of driving expensive German machinery faster than is appropriate are done, but still I like the feeling of taking just the right line on a series of nicely cambered, sweeping down-hill curves.

The distance. As the mother of a friend of mine said, I like to stretch my eyes. I need a horizon to look at and the pleasure goes up in proportion to the number of miles away that it is.

May. Well the last two weeks of April, all of May and the first half of June. Nowhere is lusher or fresher or more teeming than England, then. Every day of May is precious.

Puns. I take deep and devious delight in a neatly turned pun, though most bits of wordplay will do it.

Good second hand bookshops. A good second hand bookshop should not be too large, too damp or to dusty, and it should turn up one or two affordable books by authors who are old friends, but sadly out of print. I am always delighted to find one of the novels of Margery Sharp for example.

Falling asleep in the sun. I do this very rarely because one so rarely gets goldilocks days when it’s not too hot and not too cold. But it is such a treat when one can.

The first mouthful of the first cup of tea of the day. What more can I say?

I think that’ll do for now. I am off to drink tea and read some pre-war detective fiction. More bliss.